


The Girls of St. Mary's

by Toft



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Historical, Schoolgirls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-24
Updated: 2009-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toft/pseuds/Toft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50's English girl's boarding school genderswap AU; and, in the final part, 70's lesbian separatist commune AU! <i>Judy Sheppard talks like the American movie stars in the pictures she sneaks out to see on Sundays, after church.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in three parts with the constant encouragement, cajoling and feedback of thingswithwings. <3\. The first two parts are the same story, and the third part is more of a sequel, but I've posted it as three chapters here as I did on LJ originally.
> 
> The two characters are both under-18 in the first two parts of the stories, so may count as underage in your part of the world.
> 
> Original posts on LJ: [The Girls of St Mary's Part 1/3](http://toft-froggy.livejournal.com/318450.html#cutid1), and [Part 2/3](http://toft-froggy.livejournal.com/338192.html#cutid1), [Part 3/3](http://toft-froggy.livejournal.com/410404.html).
> 
> There is a podfic for this work by rhea available [from here](http://community.livejournal.com/sgapodfic/113342.html).

Judy Sheppard talks like the American movie stars in the pictures she sneaks out to see on Sundays, after church; the girls hate her for putting it on, but it's completely obvious to Meredith that at least half the lilt is pure Tipperary. Judy has a seemingly never-ending supply of illicit chewing gum and gobstoppers, and her lips are big and full. There's a rumour that she uses lipstick. Judy keeps her black hair in a messy ponytail or French plait that somehow always looks artfully touselled rather than scraped back with one of the elastic bands she keeps around her left wrist.

Meredith McKay's posh Kent vowels have alienated the middle-class girls who make up most of the school, and the ink stains on her tie and cake crumbs on her skirt, odd socks, scuffed shoes and top marks in everything have alienated the rest. She doesn't care; they're all stupid, anyway. Meredith has fluffy, nondescript, mousy hair that just gets in her face and seems to always start to stick up the moment she looks away from it in the mirror. She's always starving.

*

The first time Meredith notices Sheppard, it's when she's been forced, yet again, to abandon her valuable library access time to watch their lacrosse team play Sacred Heart. They're losing, as usual, when suddenly the new girl - who doesn't have any friends, and who Susan, who whispers down at Meredith from the top of her bunkbed when Meredith's trying to sleep (not because she likes Meredith, but because she can't keep her stupid mouth shut for more than five seconds at a time), says has been expelled from eight separate schools, including two in Europe - suddenly darts through Sacred Heart's defence, shimmying around two enormous upper sixers with unnatural grace, and sends the ball swooping over the goalie's shoulder with a flick of her arm like she's swatting a fly.

The St Mary stands erupt, which drowns out the sound of the referee's whistle for time out, their own captain yelling at Sheppard to get back into defence, and the coach yelling at _her_ to not be such a dunce and move the new girl forward, as Sheppard stands between them, leaning on her lacrosse net and chewing lazily, hardly looking like she's broken a sweat, except for the way her forehead and taut upper arms gleam in the winter sunshine. She's taller than the other girls, and even in lacrosse uniform manages to make it look like she's wearing a skirt just shorter than regulation, her thighs just visible, flashing white above her mud-stained, knee-high socks.

Ten minutes later, she breaks the Sacred Heart winger's ankle in a particularly vicious tackle and is sent off, and Meredith loses interest in the game again.

*

The second time Meredith notices Sheppard, it's when they're paired in Chemistry after Meredith makes Gwendolyn cry by belittling her idiocy, and Sheppard makes Mabel cry after heating up a test tube over a bunsen burner, then leaving it on the table for Mabel to pick up. She pouts a little when she's confronted, green eyes wide, and says, "Oh, Mabel, I'm so sorry, it was an accident, I swear." Miss Weir can't prove it, so she paired Sheppard with Meredith instead.

*

The first time Judy notices goody-two-shoes McKay, it's when McKay slams herself into the stool at the bench next to her, scowling and red-faced, hair sticking up everywhere, and mutters, "God, this is such a waste of my time," into her bag as she rummages for her textbook. It falls open at the last chapter when she dumps it on the desk. There are notes on it.

"We haven't got to that chapter yet," Judy says.

"Hence this being a complete waste of my time," McKay hisses. "Make yourself useful and fill up the inkwell."

But Judy doesn't really notice her until McKay grabs Judy's wrist hard enough to bruise as she's about to drop the sugar cube into the inkwell, while she thinks McKay's still looking in her bag. "Don't even think about it," McKay snaps. "Give me that." She shoves the cube straight into her mouth, which immediately loses its crooked, miserable look, and becomes a wide, bright smile. "Mmm. Go', whe' di' you ge' at?" She chews and swallows, then turns her bright, blue and suddenly enthusiastic eyes on Judy. "Do you have any more?"

"No," Judy lies, amused, and McKay loses interest in her as quickly as she'd found it, the corners of her mouth turning down again and her attention going back to what Weir's writing on the board.

"Also," McKay whispers, ten minutes later, over the scratching of quills, "You don't need to use nearly that much sugar, and it would be far more efficient to drop a few grains in all the inkwells before class, that way you'd never get caught. You get caught far too often, they're going to kick you out at this rate."

"McKay! Sheppard! Eyes on your work, I won't tell you again!" Weirdy Weir shouts from the raised bench at the front of the class.

Five minutes after that, Judy risks a whisper, "I could have more. Meet me behind the lacrosse shed after fifth period."

She catches a flash of blue as McKay shoots a wary glance at her. "I don't think so," she mutters. Judy stabs her pen down on the paper, more annoyed than she should be, and McKay looks over at her again, this time more curious. "I can't," she whispers, "I have physics tuition. After seventh?"

"MCKAY!" Weir bellows, wisps of hair beginning to escape from her ruthlessly tight bun, which is never a good sign.

After a few minutes, Judy pushes a scrap of paper over to McKay with ink-scratched writing on it. It says, "Okay."

*

The grassy slope behind the lacrosse shed is muddy and freezing cold, and the wooden slats of the shed are damp and leave green stains on the back of white blouses, but nobody comes out here this late in the afternoon, when the February sun is already falling behind the bare branches of the apple trees that line this side of the lacrosse field, and it's easy to sneak back into school without being seen. Meredith used to come here and read her physics textbook and eat apples last year, and she's secretly annoyed that Sheppard's discovered her hideout.

"Did you bring the sugar?" Meredith says, eyeing the paper bag Judy's casually letting swing from one hand.

Sheppard's lips quirk. "You get to the point fast, don't you?"

"Why do you talk like that?" Meredith blurts out. "Like you're in the pictures."

Judy shrugs and stiffens at the same time, and scuffs at the mud with her already-filthy shoe. "Dad's a colonel. Last school I was at was in America."

"Ooh, where in America?" Meredith says, interested despite herself.

"Colorado."

Meredith sighs. "I don't think there are any interesting universities near there."

"Sorry," Sheppard says, with another of those odd, quick little smiles, and Meredith scowls in response to the completely ridiculous and inexplicable blush she feels coming on.

"Everyone thinks you're a serial expellee," she mutters, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"Don't tell them," Judy drawls, "It'll ruin my image."

Meredith shrugs. "It's not like they'd listen to me anyway."

A blackbird hops towards them and eyes them curiously. After about thirty seconds, Sheppard jerks her foot impatiently, and it rises up with a clatter of feathers and flies away. Then she glances over at Meredith and remarks, "Nice knickers."

Meredith says, "Shit," flushes wildly and crosses her legs so her skirt is covering her decently again, then mumbles, "Um, sorry. Used to being here on my own."

She stares at her own lap miserably in the knowledge that she's doomed herself to another week of misery as Sheppard finally gets in with the cool girls and the entire dormitory laughs at Meredith before they all get bored and move on to someone else - probably when Helen wets herself again - when suddenly she blinks, and there's a paper bag in her lap. She opens it with numb fingers, and it's full of sweet, white cubes of crystal joy that wink in the late afternoon light, more precious than diamonds.

"Oh my _god_ , she says reverently, "Where did you get them?"

"Staff room tea box," Sheppard says casually, and Meredith chokes.

"You can get into the _staff room_?"

"Sure."

"And you're wasting time stealing _sugar_? They have fruit cake! And, and, tea biscuits! And _textbooks_!"

*

McKay stares at Judy, her blue eyes wide and appalled, as she stuffs sugar cubes mechanically into her mouth with her other hand. Judy wonders if she even realizes she's doing it.

"I guess," Judy says slowly, "I could go back and get some of them."

" _Really_?" McKay squeaks, and she's already rummaging in her satchel with one hand as she licks sugar off her thumb, then sucks her whole index finger into her mouth and says around it, "Great! I'll write you a list!"

"Ha, no," Judy says, and McKay looks up, eyes wide, sucking on her finger, skirt rucked up over her knees. "If I'm going to be carrying that much, I need someone to watch the door," Judy says.

"I can't be expelled," McKay says immediately. "I'd miss too much school."

"So make a plan so we don't get caught."

McKay slides her finger out of her mouth meditatively, leaving it shiny with spit, then licks the top of her middle finger. Her cheeks are ruddy with the cold, and one has a blue ink stain, just at the base of her squarish, unpretty jaw, about the size of a fingerprint.

"Yes, okay, I can do that," she says.

*

"What's your name?" McKay whispers suddenly out of the darkness, her breath hot on Judy's neck as they stand, pressed into a nook just around the corner from the staffroom, waiting for the last teacher to leave. Judy's hands are sweating around the hairpin in her hand; she hadn't entirely told the truth to McKay before, she _had_ got them from the staffroom, but she'd grabbed them when The Gorman's back was turned during a lecture on slovenliness. McKay had looked so fucking impressed, though, and Judy hadn't expected her to actually go through with it. She'd actually monitored the staff's movements and made a plan of the layout of the corridors around it over several days, then slipped them to Judy in French as they all droned the past perfect of 'etre'.

"Tonight?" she'd muttered out of the corner of her mouth as they filed out of class, looking hopeful and bad-tempered and with a new ink stain on her forehead, "I seriously need that cake if I'm going to get through Art tomorrow without killing Sarah Kingsley with my paintbrush."

"Are you sure it'll work?" Judy had whispered, as they filed into the maths classroom.

"Of course it'll work," hissed McKay, but she was already going glazed and hurrying her step as she eyed the brand new textbooks laid out on their desks.

Now, McKay whispers, "What's your name?" again. "Your other name, I mean."

Todd Shipman, son of Major Shipman, had taught her how to pick a lock with a hairpin on the airbase their fathers had both been stationed at. Then he'd tried to kiss her in the closet they'd broken into, and Judy had punched him in the face.

"Judy," she whispers back. "What's yours?"

"Meredith," McKay says. "Don't you dare laugh."

"Wasn't going to."

They stand in silence for a moment, and finally, finally the door squeaks and clicks shut as Mrs Black leaves for her evening patrol of the second floor dorms. They wait for a few more minutes in case she's forgotten something. A floorboard creaks near them, and Meredith presses a little closer to Judy. She's shivering a little and burning hot. When Judy glances at her, though, her jaw's set and her chin tilted up. Meredith glares at her. "Now! Go! What are you waiting for?"

"Fine," Judy mutters. "You know what to do."

*

They round the corner to the third floor dorm, panting and laughing, their booty clutched to their chest.

"Quick, up here, Weirdy'll be around in a minute!" Meredith gasps, her cheeks bright red and hair everywhere, and grabs Judy's sweaty hand, tugs her through a door that Judy thought was a cupboard and up a tiny flight of stairs. Then she says, "Hold this," carefully balances the heavy textbook on the cake tin in Judy's arms and unbuttons the top of her own blouse, shoving her tie out of the way, then catches Judy's eyes, flushes, bites her lip and turns around so Judy can't see as she rummages in her blouse.

"It's the safest place, okay?" she mutters, as she unlocks the little door with the key extracted from her bra.

She grabs Judy's hand again and tugs her into a tiny room, with a desk and chair, a bookshelf full of notes and books, and a single, high-up window that probably doesn't give any light at all. There's a little lamp with a candle in it, burnt down almost into a wax pancake, and no other light that Judy can see.

"What is this place?" she breathes, as Meredith takes the textbook and cake tin from her, puts it down on the desk and rummages on the bookshelf for the matches. Her breath puffs cloudy in the freezing attic room.

"It's a private study," Meredith says. "They normally give it to the head girl, but when the new wing opened up they put one in there with actual heating and electric lighting, so Mrs Black said I could have this one for my extra homework. I get too much to do in study period, and I can't concentrate in the dorm room."

She hands Judy the key while she fumbles with the matches, and Judy curls her fingers around it. It's warmer than her hand.

"There," Meredith says, and steps back as the candlelight flickers and fills out the tiny room, throwing shadows on the high ceiling, making her face glow pink, catching gold in her mussed brown hair. Strands of it are sticking to her forehead. "Now we have light, and cake!"

She turns her smile on Judy, and Judy feels an answering spark light somewhere in her, a warm, piercing glow in her stomach. She smiles back, and Meredith's grin gets even bigger, her eyes blue as the sky over Cheyenne Mountain. Then she flops gracelessly down into the only chair, and starts to pry open the caketin with a ruler.

"Hey, where do I sit?"

"My study," Meredith says, hacking a chunk out of the cake with the same ruler, "My chair." She stuffs the first chunk into her mouth, scattering crumbs and a loose raisin across the desk. "Mmmph, god, this is the good stuff."

Judy perches on the desk, avoiding the crumbs, and cuts herself a slice, since Meredith's too blissed out to pay attention. She picks the decorative walnuts off the top of the cake and lines them up on the desk, then stuffs a lump of cake into her mouth. It really is good.

Meredith finishes her slice and slides back into her chair with a sigh, a sweet, contented little smile on her face, her long eyelashes brushing soft on her cheeks.

"You're pretty," Judy blurts out. Meredith opens her eyes and blinks at her. "I mean. Don't think you're not. You are."

"Okay, " Meredith says slowly. "What's the punchline?"

Judy feels herself flushing, and feels like an idiot. Shit, shit. "No punchline. Eat the walnuts."

Meredith grabs two and crunches them, not taking her eyes off Judy. Then she reaches for another, doesn't take it. She stops, like a wind-up top that's all unwound.

"You - think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah," Judy husks, then clears her throat around her stupid voice, and looks at the three leftover walnuts. She reaches over and picks one up, rolls it between her fingers. "You want this?"

Meredith nods, silent, eyes wide, and Judy doesn't have to lean far to put it in her mouth. Meredith's lips close around it too fast, brushing the tips of Judy's fingers, and Judy could swear she feels sparks. Meredith eats the walnut, still staring, then swallows, and Judy can't stop staring at her mouth.

"Are you finished?" she whispers, when Meredith doesn't reach for another one, and Meredith nods, and licks her lips, looking frightened and hungry and maybe a little dazed. Judy leans down and brushes her mouth against Meredith's, very quickly, then pulls back as Meredith takes a sharp breath. The candle beside them flickers in a draught, and in that instant Meredith's chair is on the floor and her face is level with Judy's, and she's grabbing Judy's collar and kissing her hard. Her lips are pressed tightly together, and she clearly has no idea, so Judy deliberately opens her mouth against Meredith's, licks her bottom lip, and Meredith makes a surprised noise. Meredith lets her mouth soften a little, then open, and their tongues slide together, Meredith making another noise, softer, this time as they kiss the sticky taste of raisins and cinnamon out of each other's mouths. Her clenched fists loosen on Judy's collar, and she smooths down the crumpled, starchy cotton with her fingers, stroking motions which spread outwards over Judy's shoulders until Meredith's hands are resting on her biceps, not seeming to know where else to go. Judy's kissed boys before who didn't know what they were doing, and it made her impatient when she had to grab their hands and put them where she wanted them, but this is different; it's tentative, soft and sweet, and she's afraid to even shift on the desk to stop her backside going numb, doesn't know what to do with her hands, is afraid to do anything except keep still and quiet and kiss back as Meredith strokes little circles into her shoulders. Finally Meredith pulls away with a wet sound and stares at Judy, her eyes dark. They're both panting like they've just run all the way from the staff room again.

"I think," Meredith says finally, her voice husky and breathy as she drops her gaze to the side, and, god, it makes Judy want to kiss her again, all over again. "I'm going to have some more. Cake. More cake. Um. Do you. Do you want some?"

"Okay," Judy whispers. Meredith looks down at the caketin, then seems to realize she's still got her hands on Judy's shoulders.

"I," she says, swallows, still looking at the desk, "I eat when I'm nervous."

Judy reaches over and digs her clumsy, unresponsive fingers into the cake, pulls off a lump and brings it up, holds it to Meredith's mouth. She looks at it, then her mouth quirks and she eats it from Judy's hand in two bites.

"Still nervous?" Judy says, when she's finished.

"No," Meredith says, and leans in hurriedly and kisses Judy again, a swipe of tongue and crumbs on her lips. "But. I really have to go, they'll check the beds in half an hour."

Judy leans forward and catches her lips as she pulls away, kisses her again.

"God," Meredith breathes, and tucks the loose strands of hair floating around Judy's face behind her ears. "You're so. I don't know. We have to -"

She breaks off with a squeak as Judy has a flash of inspiration and licks her neck.

"Eugh! What are you - oh, oh. No, no, really, we have to - Judy, Judy, don't, please -"

Meredith wriggles in her arms - oh, Judy has her arms around her, now, loose around her shoulders like a lasso - and is making stifled shrieking noises and giggling so hard it feels like she might break something, as Judy licks a wet line from her earlobe down to the collar of her blouse, then, because she can't resist it, and warmth is blooming in her chest, she presses her face to Meredith's neck and blows a loud raspberry into her soft skin. "Eep!" Meredith squeaks, flails and knocks over the candle, which goes out with a phutt and a clatter, leaving them in pitch blackness.

"Oh, now you've done it, idiot," she whispers, but she doesn't really sound cross. Judy reaches for her hand in the dark, and Meredith twines her hot fingers around Judy's and squeezes once before letting go. Judy gropes for the key on the desk, and Meredith hides the textbook in the desk drawer and the cake tin in a cupboard behind the desk, then sweeps the crumbs off the table into her hand and drops them in the desk drawer too, hardly making a single wrong move in the dark. Judy grins as Meredith locks the door, then primly deposits the key in its hiding place, and Meredith whispers, "Shut up," even though Judy knows she can't see her. Halfway down the stairs, as they listen for every creak, Meredith's hand finds Judy's in the dark again, and they don't let go until they're all the way to the corridor which separates the upper fifth and lower sixth dorms.

"I won't be in French tomorrow," Meredith whispers, "I'm going on the Upper Sixth History field trip. Miss Finch is taking me to a lecture at a university in London, we're sharing the bus with them."

"Will you be back for seventh?"

"Probably not. Come here after dinner, we should be back then, but don't let anyone see you, they made me swear on pain of death not to tell anyone I had this study."

"Okay," Judy whispers back, and has the urge to kiss her again, but it's not dark enough, and she thinks she can hear someone coming up the stairs. "Night."

"Night," Meredith says, and smiles, and it's almost as good as kissing.


	2. Part 2

Meredith's been looking forward to going to London to see Professor Woolsey's lecture for months, reading the preparatory material that Miss Finch has been giving her, (which Finch says is university level, but Meredith thinks she must be wrong, or it's a draft copy or something, because it's so full of mistakes it's ridiculous), and normally she'd be fuming in the noisy bus and trying to concentrate on her notes, but she's only opened the first page when she starts thinking about Judy. She only snaps out of it when Miss Finch nudges her and says, "Meredith! Look, Nelson's Column! Are you all right, dear? You look a little flushed! Excited about the lecture? Good heavens, girl, you're burning up! Take your coat off at once and drink some water."

She's worried she won't be able to pay attention, but that's not a problem once her and Miss Finch get to the University, which is full of shoving, laughing young men carrying interesting-looking books and staring in open curiosity at the pair of them. Miss Finch gets lost, so Meredith has to find the lecture hall, and by the time they get there, Professor Woolsey is just stepping up to the podium; he pauses when the heavy door bangs behind them, but he smiles when he sees Miss Finch, and nods at her and Meredith across the room. Miss Finch _blushes_.

"Oh my god! He's your, your _fancy man_!" Meredith hisses, and Miss Finch goes even redder, and elbows her in the side far harder than is warranted. Luckily, the lecture's started, and by the end of it they've both forgotten all about it in the magic of the picture of the world Wolsey draws for them in numbers and symbols. Meredith can only see it in flashes, like chinks in a curtain, but she's rapt, and hardly thinks about Judy once. Well, maybe twice.

Professor Woolsey comes over to talk to them after shaking off the circle of tall, serious-looking men with silly beards who close in on him the moment the clapping stops. He sits down in the hard-backed wooden chair next to Meredith and answers her questions patiently, shooting smiles at Miss Finch every five seconds over Meredith's shoulder at first, like she's blind or something, but then he's saying, "No, no, heavens, girl, you can't - Emily, give me some paper, I can't have Miss McKay leaving with such a terrible misapprehension -" and scribbling wildly as Meredith follows along and runs ahead, elated. It feels like only a few minutes later that Meredith's stomach rumbles loudly and she looks up, startled, to find Miss Finch looking decidedly disgruntled and the clock showing that it's almost five.

"We must get this young lady something to eat!" says Professor Woolsey, and Miss Finch shoots him a quick look. Meredith suddenly realizes that she probably wanted to talk to Professor Woolsey, maybe hold hands or something, and she thinks of Judy, and feels a pang in her stomach on top of the hunger when she realizes it'll almost certainly be lights-out by the time they get back, if the bus hasn't already gone without them. She stands up so quickly that Miss Finch has to grab her chair to rescue it.

"I'll um," she waves her hands, "I have to go outside. I'll wait for you."

"Yes, we should be off," Miss Finch says, standing up with a sigh.

"No, no, no hurry, you just, um, talk to Professor Woolsey, or whatever you two do, and I'll go and, um, there're some very interesting - paintings."

Professor Woolsey looks like he's trying not to laugh, and Miss Finch is a deep scarlet and seems to be struggling to decide whether to strangle Meredith or hug her. Either of those would be horrifying, so Meredith makes a break for it.

She sits on the floor in the hall, spares the frowning ex-provosts on the wall a second's glance, then shuts her eyes and lets herself think about Judy for a solid fifteen minutes. The way her legs swing under the desk in Chemistry, the way she leans back when she talks to teachers and bigger girls, like she's bored. The way her mouth felt against Meredith's. The focused, almost frightening way she looked at Meredith when she pulled away, that makes Meredith's heart feel like it's going to beat out of her chest even now, and makes her insides feel warm and melty, like a chocolate bar forgotten in a pocket.

Miss Finch scurries out, still bright red, and hurries Meredith along, stopping only at the University refectory to buy them both egg-and-cress sandwiches on the way out to eat on the bus, but she doesn't seem to be able to stop smiling.

"Please don't say anything," she murmurs to Meredith, when they're halfway home and Meredith is sitting on her hands to stop herself fidgeting. "If anyone at the school knew, I could lose my job. Richa- Professor Woolsey and I - we don't have enough money to marry yet, and -"

"Yes, yes," Meredith says, squirming. "I don't want to _know_."

Miss Finch smiles into her hand. "Of course you don't. My apologies."

They get back to school just before ten, and Miss Finch walks Meredith right to the dormitory.

"I know what you're like, Meredith, I don't want Mrs Black coming to tell me off again because you've been up working all night. You look exhausted, go to bed at once."

Meredith's heart jumps at every shadow they pass, wondering if Judy's hiding out here, or if she's still waiting, if she's angry, if she thinks Meredith didn't -

Meredith makes herself go through the motions, brush her teeth and put on her baggy striped pajamas that the other girls make fun of (but nightdresses are ridiculous, and they get tangled in her feet), and she even gets into bed, swearing when she stubs her toe and getting a whispered, "For heaven's sake, put a sock in it, Meredith!" from Susan above her. After five minutes, she can't bear it; she gets up as quietly as she can, pulls on her slippers and creeps to the door and out.

Meredith's been out after hours before, but the school seems darker and emptier tonight, shadows looming over her from the moonlight through the tall windows, and she's forgotten her dressing gown, so by the time she gets to the little door she's shivering and cursing herself for being an idiot. The stairs are silent and almost pitch black, and she's halfway up before she sees a dark shape at the top and nearly has a heart attack. Meredith reminds herself that she doesn't believe in ghosts.

"J-Judy?" she whispers, and a cold, unhappy weight settles down on her when nobody answers. She almost turns back right then, then supposes that she didn't get much dinner and she absolutely does not believe in ghosts, so there is nothing to stop her going to get some cake, since she's here. She carries on to the top of the stairs, and is fumbling for the key when she stumbles on a soft, heavy lump.

"Jesus!"

"Mer?"

The shadow unfolds into Judy, and Meredith hasn't quite got her balance back yet, or maybe hunger makes her lightheaded, but the way she suddenly ends up in Judy's arms, her hands in Judy's hair and her mouth on Judy's, feels a lot like falling.

"Thought you weren't coming," Judy breathes, between soft, clumsy kisses. Meredith doesn't say anything, because she's learning all over again the way Judy tastes, like mint and fresh air and recklessness, and the swooping lurch in her stomach every time Judy's thumb brushes against her bare neck.

"We were late," she finally says, but when Judy mumbles an acknowledgement and tucks her head under Meredith's to lick her neck, Meredith can't remember what she was talking about. She can't even remember how she got here.

"Key?" Judy finally whispers, and Meredith thinks yes, yes, good idea, but finds she can't unlock her fingers from around the windowsill Judy has her pressed up against, or do anything but tip her head back for more. Judy makes a breathy, greedy sound against the wet skin of her throat. "How about I get it?"

Meredith squeaks in a way which she doubts could be interpreted as anything but surprise, but Judy makes that noise again, making something like heat twist and turn over suddenly in Meredith's lower body, and then Judy is unbuttoning the shirt of Meredith's pajamas, her breath coming fast and hot against Meredith's skin. She presses a kiss against Meredith's collarbone, then lays a close little string of them as she works her way down. When she reaches Meredith's hideous brassierre, Meredith braces herself for ridicule and curses her mother all over again for forcing her into this antiquated feat of engineering rather than the flimsier, American things she sees on the other girls in the changing rooms and the dormitories, but Judy just breathes against the white span of skin between where Meredith's breasts curve and dip down. She finishes unbuttoning without watching what she's doing, instead exploring with her tongue the abused skin at the tops of Meredith's shoulders where the straps rub.

"God, Meredith," she breathes.

"I know," Meredith mutters, "It's like the fucking Clifton Suspension Bridge."

Judy laughs out loud, a ridiculous sound that's totally undignified and not at all like the rest of her, and Meredith grins, delighted.

"That's not what I meant," Judy murmurs, still sniggering a little, but staring at Meredith's breasts with big eyes. It makes Meredith squirm, not entirely in an unpleasant way.

"It's in the, um, the left one," Meredith breathes, and she suddenly wonders what a picture they must make, her silhouetted against the moonlight, Judy's dark head bent between her breasts. Then she jumps as Judy's cool fingertips brush against the top of her left breast, along the line of the bra, and she makes a noise she can't hold in when Judy's tongue follows.

Judy takes a hard, fast breath, and presses her forehead against Meredith's collarbone for a second, then reaches over to grab Meredith's wrist and bring it up to press the sleeve against Meredith's lips. Meredith takes the hint, and covers her own mouth with her hand, but can't help moaning against it when Judy dips her tongue down and under the edge of the cup, and Meredith's nipple tightens against the harsh fabric, making her shiver. Then Judy thumbs her nipple through the bra, sending a jolt like electricity through her. Meredith yelps and arches back, then stuffs her knuckles into her mouth in alarm.

"Oh, you're going to like this," Judy whispers, then slides one cool finger down between the bra-cup and Meredith's skin, until she can rub the pad of her index finger across Meredith's nipple. Meredith jerks again, but manages to hold off moaning this time, barely. Judy rubs against Meredith's taut nipple, and the sensation sparks off something more urgent and aching that makes her writhe up against Judy, wanting more, anything. Meredith pulls her fingers out of her mouth to breathe, and Judy looks up, tracking her shiny, spit-wet hand in the same way she'd stared at her breasts.

"Get the key," Meredith gasps.

"We can stay out here," Judy says out loud, and Meredith presses her hand to Judy's mouth in horror, forgetting that her fingers are covered in spit. Judy sucks them into her mouth, flicking her tongue between them and looking up coyly at Meredith through her eyelashes.

"I am not risking expulsion to indulge your thrill-seeking ways!" Meredith hisses, trying to sound anything but breathlessly dizzy.

Judy's eyes narrow, and she actually pouts around Meredith's fingers. With a swift flick of her fingers she's extracted the key from its hiding place, but it takes her several tries to get the key into the door, her hands shaking in the dark. The little room is even darker than the staircase, the moon casting a square of silver on the wall high above them, but Judy pushes Meredith back against the door the moment they're inside, and locks it under Meredith's arm. Then they're kissing again, but this time it's different; with her shirt hanging open and Judy pressed against her, the sense-echo of Judy's hand on her breast, her tongue slick against Judy's and the soft noises their mouths make together feel like _hunger_ , stoking the aching heat inside her. She licks deep into Judy's mouth, finds herself threading her hands into Judy's hair and angling her head to get what she wants, kissing Judy like she could crawl inside her and it would never be enough.

Judy groans into her mouth, and it's _amazing_ , like discovering a new way the universe fits together. In a leap of intuition, Meredith grabs Judy's hands from where they're bunched in her pajamas at her sides, and brings them to the bare skin of her waist. Judy pulls back, gasping for breath, and strokes her fingers up and down Meredith's sides, then up over the back strap of her bra.

"You can take it off," Meredith whispers. "If - if you want."

*

The air between them is hot and electric with their breath, even though the room is cold. Judy fumbles at Meredith's bra, trying to unhook it by feel alone, her fingers shaking. She doesn't know what the hell she was planning, but she doesn't think it was this; she's supposed to be the fucking experienced one here, but she feels melted and boneless and has no idea what she's doing. It's terrifying to be this out of control; it feels more like rage, or fear, or helplessly watching aeroplanes take off, than the kick of letting a boy feel her up and not getting caught. A strand of her hair has stuck itself to her bottom lip, and when Meredith brushes it away with a finger, staring at her like she's the most incredible thing in the universe, Judy almost can't bear it.

Then Meredith huffs, "Oh, for god's sake, let me do it," shoving Judy's hands out of the way to tug at the catches of her bra, and Judy can breathe again, albeit only for the second before she's laughing at the way Meredith's got her arms stuck in her pajamas. "Oh, yes, because you were doing such a good job," Meredith mutters, but she's snorting too by the time they get both her shirt and her bra off, and then she's suddenly _naked_ from the waist up, her skin very white against the dark wooden door, and she tilts her chin up as Judy stares. Her nipples are paler than Judy's, and are tight from the cold, her breasts rising and falling gently as she pants. God. Before she can think, Judy bends to suck one into her mouth, licking over the nub before scraping her teeth over it, and Meredith jolts and whimpers like she's been given fifty volts. She tastes a little like salt, but mostly like herself. Judy puts her hands back on Meredith's waist to keep her still, digging her fingers into her soft sides a little, and licks her again, then sucks gently. Meredith bucks a little under her hands, then writhes and twists back against the door, whispering, "Oh - Judy, Jesus, I can't believe you're - oh my _god_."

Judy switches to the other breast when Meredith's reduced to short, sharp gasps and is digging her fingers into Judy's shoulders convulsively, like she wants to push her away. Meredith sags back against the door for a few seconds before Judy starts sucking at her other breast in earnest, then is practically vibrating under Judy's hands again, straining up and making hungry little noises deep in her throat that drive Judy almost frantic. This time, Meredith squeezes her eyes shut and makes a disappointed little sound when Judy pulls back, but she perks up when Judy starts struggling with her own shirt. When Judy gets the top two buttons undone and the tie loose, she bats Meredith's hands away and tugs it over her head, then gets her own bra off in a few seconds.

"Oh, wow," Meredith breathes, her eyes going huge. She strokes a line with her finger down the centre of Judy's chest, between her breasts. "Huh," she says, "Yours are a lot smaller than mine. Also, your left one is bigger."

If this were anyone else, that would be the end of it right here, Judy thinks, but Meredith is so obviously fascinated, even though Judy hasn't got much in the chest department, that it's sort of - sweet. Judy must be going insane.

"Thanks, McKay, I hadn't noticed."

Meredith blinks. "Really? You never looked?" She tears her gaze away from Judy's breasts to stare up at her, then winces. "Oh. Right. Sarcasm. Um, sorry. They're very nice," she adds, belatedly. She pokes Judy's right breast, just below the nipple.

"Ow!"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

Meredith strokes the spot with her finger, then presses her whole palm over Judy's breast and squeezes (as much as she can), not at all gently. "Weird."

Judy makes a strangled noise, and Meredith blinks, like she's forgotten she's there. "Oh, you like that?"

 _No!_ Judy starts to say, but it comes out sounding more like, "Uh huh."

"Hm," Meredith says, and bends down, touching Judy's nipple with the tip of her pink little tongue, gingerly, like she's afraid it might give her hives. Then she seems to decide it's okay, and sucks on it, really pretty hard. Judy whimpers, and Meredith shoves her back against the door.

Turns out, being pushed around is something else Judy doesn't mind, when it's Meredith. Things go a little crazy after that. Judy's breasts get tender fast, so she grabs Meredith's hair and tugs her up for a kiss; then they're suddenly pressed against each other, bare skin and Meredith's breasts soft and full against her chest. It's strange and incredible, and Meredith makes an urgent noise into her mouth and shudders, digging her fingers into Judy's back. She spreads her legs a little and shifts so she's straddling Judy's thigh, maybe without even realizing she's doing it, because she squeaks when Judy presses her leg up a little.

"Yeah," she breathes, when Meredith rocks forward and shudders again, and she tugs up her skirt so it's rucked around her stomach, grabs Meredith's ass through her pajama pants and pulls her against her harder. Meredith's eyes go big and surprised, then she bites her lip and bucks her hips forward.

"Oh," she blurts out. "You're better than a pillow."

"Gee, thanks, Meredith," Judy says, breathless, "Just what I always -"

"Shut - up," Meredith gasps, rubbing up against her in earnest, now, and, ow, Judy's swiftly discovering that flannel pajama pants are the worst thing ever for this.

"Mer," Judy hisses, pushing her back to save her already-burning thigh, "Wait, wait -"

Meredith whines and bucks against her again, but Judy pushes her back and fumbles at the drawstring of her pants as Meredith licks messily at her neck. She shoves her hand down Meredith's pants and presses the heel of her hand against the damp fabric of her knickers, and Meredith keens and bucks against her again; Judy works her hand and rubs with the side of her thumb from side to side, up and down, as Meredith shoves greedily against her. Then Meredith makes a noise deep in her throat and bucks against Judy's cramping hand, digs her fingernails into her back and shudders over and over, her eyes pressed tightly closed and thighs clenched. "Uh," she says, high and shaky, into Judy's neck, and presses a wet kiss to her shoulder. Judy feels like she's coming apart, her whole body humming, and she - god, she _wants_ -

"Yes, yes, okay," Meredith mutters, "Don't shove," and she reaches between Judy's legs, under her skirt, presses down _right there_ with her thumb, and pleasure spikes through Judy once, too fast, leaving her aching and needing the door to hold her up.

"Oh," Meredith breathes, "There?"

"Yeah, yeah, there -"

She does it again, and again.

"Is this enough? Do you want me to -"

She slips a finger under the elastic of Judy's underwear as she rubs with her thumb, brushes tentatively along the crease of Judy's thigh, and the shivers the touch sends through her double and treble until the full force of it hits her in waves and waves, and she bites her wrist so she doesn't make a noise.

They end up sliding to the floor together, a hot, sticky mess against the cold wood and stone. Then Meredith kicks off her pajama pants and crawls on top of Judy and they kiss for a while, rocking against each other for the lazy sparks of heat. Normally, Judy would be flattening her skirt down, buttoning her shirt and leaving by now; normally she'd be on an air base, and this would be a boy. She can't bring herself to regret the changes all that much.

"Wonder what the time is," Meredith mumbles after a while.

"Crap," Judy says, suddenly awake, and she forgets that Meredith's on top of her and tries to sit up, banging her nose against Meredith's head. "I've got a game in the morning, I've got to go to bed."

"What? Oh, you _idiot_ ," Meredith squawks, and rolls off her so quickly she whacks her leg on the desk chair with a bang.

"Shh!"

"You shush! Stupid, imbecilic - they'll _murder_ you tomorrow -"

They find Meredith's pants and shirt and both their bras, and the key, which, after a momentary panic, turns up in the trashcan.

"Night," Meredith whispers at the bottom of the stairs, "Don't get your arm broken tomorrow just because you're tired, we have a chemistry test next week and I refuse to fail because my lab partner is an moron," and kisses her quickly on the cheek before running off to her dormitory. Judy gets back to bed without any trouble, and even remembers to avoid the squeaking board just inside the dormitory door, but she doesn't clean her teeth, so her mouth still tastes like Meredith and her whole body's thrumming with adrenaline and sex, so she can't fall asleep for at least another hour anyway.

 

Judy falls asleep on the bus on the way to the away match, but once she's out on the field, the cold air wakes her up. Her concentration's shot, though; her thighs and back ache in weird places, and every time she feels them twinge she thinks of Meredith. She doesn't score, and at half-time, Weir calls her over.

"What on earth's got into you today, Sheppard?" she hisses. "If Sumner didn't have a muscle strain, I'd put her on, but today you're all we've got, so pull yourself together!"

In the second half, Judy pretends Meredith's watching, with her big stupid scarf wrapped all around her face and her blue hat jammed down over her hair, and yelling too, obviously; that makes it easier, and she scores three times. After the game, though, she finds herself scanning Forest Hill's stands, and feels a little hollow remembering that she's not actually there, then realizes she's gone fucking insane. She spends the bus home worrying that Mer's freaking out about last night. What if she doesn't want to do it again? What if she tells someone? What if she tells a _teacher_? Judy's such an _idiot_ , she can't believe she -

Meredith's sitting on the steps of the school when the bus gets in.

" _Finally_ ," she snaps, grabbing Judy by the elbow and dragging her in. "Do you know how cold it is out here? You were supposed to get back half an hour ago, I'm sure I've already caught pneumonia. I need to talk to you right now."

"Uh," Judy says, fighting back the icy clench of fear in her stomach, "I have to go and get my books, McKay."

"Just - this won't take a minute," Meredith snaps, not looking at her. She has dark circles under her eyes. "In here."

They step into the alcove behind the stairs that lead to the third year dormitory. Meredith fidgets with her shirt hem, and takes a deep breath.

"I just wanted to say," she says, all in a rush, "I know we're not supposed to do what we did last night, but, I can keep a secret, I swear I can. And, um, we can either pretend it never happened and never talk about it again, but, if you want to, I'd like to, um, do it again. If you want to."

"Yeah," Judy says, light-headed with relief, "Yeah, I want to."

"Oh," Meredith says, a flush creeping up her neck, and she smiles, shy and sweet and honest-to-god pretty. "Well. That's good."

Judy's suddenly sharply jealous of anyone who's ever seen her like this, and then she realizes she's got butterflies in her stomach, bells, singing, choirs of fucking angels, she's dizzy and would do anything to keep Mer smiling like that all the time, and she wants to kiss her and kiss her, wrap herself around her and never stop. Jesus Christ. She's in _love_.

 

Meredith pokes her in the chest. "Are you okay? We have to go to French now."

"You have really long eyelashes," Judy blurts out, then bites her lip.

Meredith blinks. Then she gets that little crease between her eyebrows, which Judy kind of wants to lick. This is a disaster, it's a fucking _train wreck_ , and Judy is too distracted by her cute little frown to care.

"Did you hit your head? Can you focus on my finger? Oh my god, your pupils are enormous! Do you want to go to the infirmary?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Judy says, and kisses her; she means to keep it light, just to tide her over, but they end up panting into each other's mouths and pulling away only when the bell goes for fourth period.

"Well," Meredith says weakly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "You seem all right, I suppose." She's flushed and her hair is messed up. "Oh, god, look, we have to - this is exactly what I - do I look okay? For god's sake, pull your shirt down." When Judy tries to fix her tie, Meredith grabs her wrists and stares at her hard, her eyes very blue. "We have to be so, so careful. They won't - if they catch us. They won't just expel us. You know that."

"Yeah," Judy says, going a little cold inside again. Such a fucking disaster. "Yeah, Meredith. I know."


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original summary on LJ: "Okay, this needs some explanation. Remember how I was writing [this WIP where John and Rodney are English 50's boarding school girls?](http://toft-froggy.livejournal.com/318450.html#cutid1) Well, a while ago I started writing a sort of sequel where they meet up again in the seventies and Rodney's living in a lesbian separatist commune, because I've always wanted to write an SGA AU where they live in a lesbian separatist commune. I wasn't going to post it until I'd actually finished the boarding school AU, but that didn't seem to be going anywhere. Then I promised I'd write her fic in thanks for all the awesome betaing she's done for me lately, and she said she wanted the lesbian separatists! So, this is a sort of the next and final part for _The Girls of St. Mary's_ , but it's a bit of a timejump from the last story - five months on - and I reserve the right to write more racy schoolgirl fic if I feel like it, later on, to fill in the bit in the middle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to wychwood, for being an awesome beta.
> 
> BONUS FEATURE: look out for surprise mystery crossover pairing! (Clue: nostalgia slash pairing from 70s Britain...)

They get five months; it's nothing, it goes by in seconds. When Judy gets the letter, she can't tell Meredith about it for a week, can't even think about it. Finally, she persuades Meredith to sneak out with her into town, and they sit on the park bench by the cemetery and burn their fingers on newspaper-wrapped fries.

"My dad wrote me," she blurts out finally, and can't get any further, can't swallow her next fry.

"Wha' 'e say?" Meredith says through a mouthful, unconcernedly. Then she looks over and sees Judy's face, and slowly puts her newspaper cone down. "What?"

"I," Judy says, and feels her face start to crumple. Meredith looks alarmed, and sort of looks around like she isn't sure whether she should run or give Judy a hug. Judy starts to laugh, but it cuts her throat like a sob. "I've got to go," she manages, finally.

"Go?" Meredith says, frowning, confused, "Go where?"

"Oklahoma," Judy says, swallowing hard. She's not crying. She isn't going to fucking cry.

"What?" Meredith says, looking irritated, for Christ's sake, like she is when she doesn't understand a French sentence, "When?"

"Soon," Judy says. "Now. Tuesday. It's - it's to a new school. On his air base."

She can't look at Meredith as she gets it.

"Oh," Meredith says, after a while. Her voice is very small.

"Yeah," Judy says. Meredith's very white, and she's gripping the side of the bench so tightly, like she's trying not to slide off. She doesn't know what to say. "Fries'll get cold," she ventures, after a while.

"I don't care about the fucking fries," Meredith chokes, standing up in a rush, and she throws her newspaper across the cemetery, fries scattering over the grass and the stone graves. When she turns around, her face is a mask of tears.

"Oh," Judy says, helplessly. "Mer - don't -"

She hugs Meredith as her shoulders shake, and her whole body hurts with the effort of holding together. Meredith pushes her away, finally, taking a few deep, wet breaths.

"We should go back," she says, looking at the ground.

"Yeah," Judy says.

Just before they get to the place where the wall has fallen down a little, Meredith stops.

"We could run away," she says, low and fierce. "We could -"

" _Mer_ ," Judy says, overwhelmed. Meredith tips her chin up, mouth tight.

"I mean it," she says, brave and hopeless. She wants to go to university. Judy doesn't trust herself to answer, so she interlinks her hands and holds them out. Meredith looks down. After a few seconds, she steadies herself on Judy's shoulder, puts her foot on her hands, and lets Judy boost her up over the wall.

 

They say goodbye over and over, kissing desperately until Judy think she won't be able to stand it, until she feels sick. But that's the night before; when she's actually getting into the car, of course, with the driver and Weir watching, they can't do anything at all.

"See you," Meredith says, her mouth a tight, miserable line. Looking at her feels like having her heart ripped out, so Judy looks at the ground instead.

"Yeah," she says. "See you."

 

Judy holds out a few days. After all, she does get to fly across the Atlantic. On her arrival at the air base in Oklahoma, her father informs her that he's been promoted, so they won't have to move around as much, and he'll be keeping her settled (and, the implication is, under his eye) from now on. She starts at the Air Base school, tries out for the lacrosse team, and it's exactly like any other first day Judy's had at any of the ten or eleven schools she's ever attended. Her accent doesn't fit in, her hair still resists all attempts to keep it regulation, she gets a rap across her knuckles for chewing gum and on her way back to her desk nobody will meet her eyes. She's doing the same work with the same fucking exercise books, and the view out of the window is of a drab, dry airstrip and a big flat nothing beyond. She can almost hear Meredith muttering darkly next to her. She excuses herself halfway through a Math lesson, goes to the bathroom and cries until she throws up.

The Math teacher comes and raps on the cubicle door, twenty minutes after the class period's ended. She offers Judy a precious piece of chocolate under the door of the cubicle, and Judy can't touch it, because she knows Meredith would want it more.

"It sure is hard on the children of our soldiers," she says, a disembodied, kindly voice. "I wouldn't do it again for the world."

"I want to go _home_ ," Judy chokes out, hectically wiping her wet face on her sleeve, too hollow and exhausted to even reach up for the paper.

"Oh, honey. It smarts now, but this'll feel like home soon, I know it. From what I hear, you're not gonna have to move again for a good long time."

Grey misery closes in on Judy even closer, stifling her, and she hugs her knees and rocks under the onslaught of it. She can't stand it, she realizes, in a moment of terror, she can't stand it. She wonders if she could drown, or, or shoot herself, or just sit here until she starves to death.

"You come on out now and clean up," Miss Carling says gently through the door, "I'll tell the nurse you need to go home with a headache today, and you can give it another go tomorrow, how about that? Why don't you just think about something you can do that will make you feel better."

Claustrophobia suddenly piercing through the fog, Judy blindly hauls herself up, fumbles with the cubicle lock, then shoves her face under the faucet as Miss Carling waits. As she lets Judy out of the back door, Miss Carling says, "You won't be seventeen forever, honey."

 

Judy spends the rest of the day out by the airfield, watching the planes take off and land, letting the thunder of the engines and the bleak brightness of the light wash through her. She can't take off with them, but she won't be seventeen forever. She can stand it. By the time she picks herself up to walk home, she's starving and as sore as if she'd been running for the last four hours, but the fog has receded, and there's something hard and unbroken in its place. That night, staring at her ceiling in the dark, Judy starts to count the days. The next day, she goes into school again, mutters "Fine," to Carling's concerned questions, and at the end of the day, she leaves, without incident, then waits to do it all again the next day. Every night she looks at herself in the mirror, and watches herself getting older.

Two and a half years later, Judy marries a guy who'll drive her through those gates and away. It lasts a few years. He dies in Vietnam in 1967, blown up with his chopper. She gets compensation from the government. Before a decent interval's elapsed, she finds someone who'll give her flying lessons.

*

Meredith decides that, if she's going to be miserable, she might as well be working. So she works. And works. She fights her way to university through brilliance, dogged persistence and the knack of being so overwhelmingly irritating that eventually she gets what she wants - lab time, an office, a doctorate. She's the third woman ever to be admitted to UCL's physics postdoctorate program; she decides she'll be the third woman to get a Nobel in physics, too.

She meets Samantha Carter at a conference in Bristol, where Carter rips Kavanagh to shreds far more politely, but, if Meredith is honest, no less devastatingly than she could have done. She's been corresponding violently with Sam for several months, under the name M. R. McKay, on a ludicrous paper that Sam had published under S. Carter; neither of them had realized the other was a woman. They shout at each other for most of the night, and share a train back to London on the Monday morning. After that, they talk shop on the phone a few times a week. They become sort of friends.

On Sam's advice, Meredith tries wearing a skirt and heels and being a little more polite, but she's not good at it, and they only patronise her more. After the six thousandth crack about her pigtails, she goes home and cuts off all her hair with a pair of craft scissors over the sink. She finds she likes the way it looks, sort of spiky in the middle, and for weeks she gets distracted by stroking the short hairs at the back of her neck. She goes back to wearing baggy trousers and ugly, comfortable shoes, striding around the department and yelling. They tell her she'll never make faculty, but at least everyone's too terrified to call her a dyke to her face. When she gets her first article accepted, even though the peer reviewers call it the most exciting thing to come out of astrophysics in twenty years, the editorial board of the _Astrophysics Journal_ insists she publish under her initials.

Far later than she should have, she does make faculty. She's a paid far less than she's worth, she gets more shitty teaching work and her office is freezing all winter, but she has access to an excellent lab at all hours, one or two of her colleagues are almost bearable, and she can make up the time working around the teaching hours to publish more and better than anyone else in the department. Eventually, she tells herself, they'll be forced to recognise her worth, and give her the time she needs to devote to chasing down the several brilliant discoveries she's on the brink of. Until then, she's perfectly happy spending most of her time in her office. She is. After all, it's not like she has anything else to do.

*

Judy works the private market, businessmen who think having a pretty woman in the pilot's seat makes them look like James Bond to their clients. Judy soon discovers that most of them want a little extra; the first few times she ends up sleeping with them, because she doesn't see it coming and can't think of a polite way to say no, but then one of them turns nasty and she has to break his arm. She gets a black mark on her record, and loses about a fifth of her client base on the back of that. After that, she develops a smile that keeps them all a few feet away even while they smile back. She stops talking to the ground crews and other pilots, and gets a reputation for being a frigid bitch. That's okay, though. They leave her alone.

She's about five years off being able to afford her own plane and leave the agency when she gets offered a permanent deal by one of her regulars, a slightly weird but decent guy who gives off a military vibe. The only extra he wants is for her to keep her mouth shut about where they go and when. She can do that. The pay is good, she only sees her shitty apartment in Colorado Springs about once a fortnight, and she gets to leave the ground behind her nearly every day. Mostly, she feels like she's got it okay.

*

After Meredith starts working with Sam Carter on her project on radio waves, the two of them are thrown together a lot more. Somewhat inevitably, Meredith falls in love with her. At two in the morning on a Saturday, drinking in Sam's office after a party to celebrate a funding coup, Meredith makes a clumsy, drunken pass at her. Sam removes Meredith's hand from her leg, more gently than she needs to, and says, "I'm straight, you idiot. Give me that, haven't you had enough?"

"Oh, come on," Meredith says, "Who else is going to date a woman astrophysicist? I'm your only hope!" and, gesticulating to demonstrate the sheer unreasonableness of Sam's position, falls off the table. Sam wakes up Radek, who's fallen asleep on the floor in the corridor, and between them they put her in a taxi home.

Sam's decent enough not to tell anyone, which Meredith, after she drags herself back up out of her hangover and crushing humiliation the next morning, convinces herself means there's hope she'll come around. Optimism sustains her for a few months, before she finds out, completely by accident, that Sam's been engaged the whole time to some American who she sneaks off to see every other weekend or so when he's in town. She doesn't wear the ring at work, she explains, because they'll assume she's planning to get pregnant and decide not to trust her with a professorship. In a fugue of self-disgust, Meredith wanders over towards Leicester Square, with the vague thought of going to a bar or something. One minute it's all quiet, then suddenly there are police sirens and yelling people running towards her. Somebody grabs her arm and yanks her, then she's being bundled into a van along with the others as she yells and kicks.

"Keep still! Please, we mean you no harm," one of them says, and Meredith stops in shock when she realizes it's a woman. Her kidnapper pulls the stocking off her head to reveal a beautiful, coffee-coloured face, flushed and glowing with excitement. "My apologies," she says, in a slow, gentle accent Meredith can't place, "We did not realize you were not one of us, and then we feared the police would make the same mistake."

" _Police_?" shrieks Meredith, "What the hell are you-" then the guy holding her pulls off his balaclava and turns out to be a woman too, a six-foot-one Amazon with lush curves, dreadlocks and a tattoo creeping up the side of her neck. She glares, and Meredith snaps her mouth shut

"This is Rona," the first woman says, "And I am Teyla."

"What are you telling her for?" Rona says, "She'll grass." There's broken glass on the floor of the van, on Rona's boots. Rona's body is rock-solid against Meredith's back. Rona gives Meredith a little shake. "You going to try to jump out of the van?"

"Don't be so stupid," Meredith snaps. "Like I'd risk damaging my brain." Actually, she had been eyeing the door, but Rona's got a tight hold on her arm.

"We are going to Hammersmith," Teyla says. "We will drop you at the tube station. Will that be all right?"

Rona seems to decide Meredith isn't going to jump out of the van, and plonks Meredith down on the bench next to her as the van sways and rumbles its way through the back streets of West London. "No that will _not_ be all right," Meredith snaps, "I live in Morden. How the fuck am I supposed to get home?"

"Piccadilly Line and District are shut from Earl's Court to Acton," Rona grunts. "Radio said earlier. Suicide on the line."

"Oh, that's just great," Meredith says, and shuts her eyes and leans back against the vibrating wall of the van, suddenly exhausted. "My day cannot possibly get any worse."

"You didn't get arrested," Rona points out. "Thanks to us."

"Excuse _me_ , if you hadn't been running around like maniacs with the police chasing you it wouldn't even have been an issue in the first place! What were you even _doing_? No, no, wait, don't tell me, I don't want to -"

"Smashing sex shops," Rona says. "Want to sleep on our sofa?"

"Are you _insane_? What on earth makes you think I'd -"

"There's chilli and beer at our place."

"Oh," Meredith says. "Well. When you put it that way."

Teyla gives Rona a sharp look. "I thought you were concerned about her telling the police?"

"It's all right," Rona says, and slaps Meredith on the arm so hard her eyes water. "She's one of us."

Teyla looks at Meredith, then her eyes soften, and Meredith suddenly feels totally naked, like Teyla knows everything about her: the way her landlord looks at her, the way she has to drop her eyes when leggy girls with dark hair walk past, and the way she sits huddled on the tube on the way home at night, as close to the door as possible.

"Oh," Teyla says gently, "Yes, I see."

 

The chilli is excellent, and the sofa surprisingly comfortable, although Meredith is turfed off it at a ridiculous hour in the morning by the Lesbians of Colour West London Collective Action Committee, and then Rona offers a full English breakfast - even with fried tomatoes and mushrooms - if she helps clear out their shed. Then Meredith notices that there's some exposed wiring in the bathroom that by some miracle hasn't killed anyone yet but undoubtedly will soon if she doesn't do something about it right now. She stays for lunch, and meets the Jewish Feminists Unite! Hammersmith and Shepherd's Bush Chapter. She also meets Carly Beckett, a shy, round-cheeked Scottish woman who seems to live with Teyla, Rona and Laura the getaway driver, unlikely as that seems. Carly blinks bemusedly over a cup of tea as Meredith rails at Rona about the state of the boiler and Rona chops vegetables, then she disappears upstairs.

"Night shift at the hospital," Rona says, when Carly's disappeared.

"You know, I have a job to go to," Meredith says, "I can't stay here all day."

Rona nods equably. "You going to stay for dinner?"

"Well, obviously."

 

A few weeks later, Meredith's half in, half out of a cupboard working on the boiler, which has turned out to be in even more disastrous a shape than she'd imagined. She's explaining in detail and at a loud volume over her shoulder how little of the house would be left standing if Meredith hadn't got here in time, when Rona bangs on the wall to interrupt her and says, "Laura's moving in with her girlfriend in Ealing. You want to make a fourth?"

Meredith doesn't say anything right away, so Rona bangs again like an idiot, and the dust she dislodges makes Meredith's eyes sting. She sits down in the hallway and blinks in the light, and Rona looks at her for a minute, then hands her a tissue.

"Yes," Meredith says. "Yes. That would be - yes. Okay."

*

They go to London more regularly than anywhere else; it's only on the seventh or eighth trip that Judy realizes this is more pleasure than business, and only on the tenth trip that she finds out the name of Jack's fiancée - Dr. Samantha Carter, and a doctor of astrophysics, no less. He relays her qualifications with a pride that takes Judy by surprise; after that, she finds it's a lot easier to give service with a smile.

Usually, Judy just stays in the hotels he pays for and watches TV; she used to go to bars and get guys to pick her up - not women, too dangerous, and she never knows the right places to go - but recently she feels like she can't be bothered to pretend she enjoys it anymore. She likes London, though; likes the grainy, old feel of it, the accent and the big red buses. She wanders around the marbles in the British Museum, buys a bag of seeds for the pigeons in Trafalgar Square then gives it to a kid when she gets bored, sits on the South Bank and watches the old tankers on the river from behind her sunglasses.

On the sixteenth trip, O'Neill announces that it's Judy's year anniversary, and that he's taking Judy out to dinner, with Sam. It's October 1977, Bing Crosby's dead, and the English newspapers are full of the guy killing women in Leeds.

*

Teyla is a qualified barrister in family law, apparently, but even after living with her for nearly eight months, Meredith can't work out what she actually does for a living apart from full-time activism, which Meredith can't imagine pays well. She works with various non-profit groups, does legal aid, runs petitions, organizes protests and moderates talks; she often comes home late, and presses her forehead against Rona's with a sigh before collapsing into a chair and letting Carly fuss over her and get her a cup of tea. Rona runs self-defence classes for women, plays in a steel pan group in Notting Hill, and cooks huge, delicious vegetarian chillis for the groups, committees and projects that run in their living room seemingly every night of the week. They often seem to end in earnest talk about politics until the early hours, fuelled by bottles of cheap red wine and endless packs of cigarettes. Meredith finds herself coming home at a reasonable hour, when there's always a hot meal waiting for her, and people around. Sometimes she gets drawn into the charmed circle and finds herself shouting and gesticulating along with the rest; she always leaves the house the next day finding it a little easier to avoid the world sucking the life out of her.

Meredith never hears anything explicit after that first night she meets them, but she knows it's not all talk. Every few months, Rona or Laura disappears for a few days, and comes back even more monosyllabic, usually with her arm in a sling or her ankle wrapped, and bruises which Carly tuts over. Sometimes it's followed by a column in a newspaper on page ten or so which is passed around the breakfast table with grim satisfaction. Meredith doesn't want to know, and covers her ears and sings if anyone ever tries to talk about anything illegal in her hearing. As she quickly learns, there are other things they don't talk about, too: Rona has a long, white scar on her back which Meredith has seen when she gets out of the bathroom; Carly jumps at loud noises and won't answer the telephone or the door; Teyla never talks about where she's from. Meredith forces herself not to ask.

*

Halfway through their meal, a murmur goes around the restaurant and suddenly there's a policeman at the door gesturing at the restaurant owner, and soon the low hum Judy hadn't noticed until now rises into voices and drums. O'Neill raises an eyebrow at Judy, and his fiancée, a willowy blonde with a pretty good sense of humour and a firm handshake, goes to see what's going on.

"Jack," she says breathlessly, when she gets back to the table. "You have to come out and see this. Judy, you too."

There are women outside, marching; hundreds of women, maybe a thousand. As they watch, more and more come, holding banners and candles, chanting.

"It's because of the Ripper murders," Sam says, and suddenly she's starting forward and waving, and someone from the middle of the pack is waving back at her. A woman with untidily-cropped, spiky brown hair is harrying someone to take her place under one half of a banner, then jogging over to them. She's wearing an enormous scarf and a big badge on her coat that says _Take Back The Night!_ , and Judy watches her come towards them in slow motion, like a dream.

She spares O'Neill and Judy a cursory glance, then homes in on Carter. "Sam!" she says, "Look, I looked over your results from yesterday, and they're completely -" then she stutters to a halt, and she turns back to stare at Judy, her eyes dizzyingly wide and blue. " _Judy_?"

"I - yeah," Judy says. Carter and O'Neill are staring, and Judy's heart thumps to life in her chest. It hurts. "Jesus. Meredith."

Then Meredith throws herself at her and wraps her in a crushing hug, and it's been so long since anyone did that to Judy that she doesn't remember what to do at first, and she just stands there patting Meredith's back; then Meredith mutters, "I can't believe you, I can't believe you, Judy, you - you _bastard_ , you didn't even write to me," into her hair, and Judy shuts her eyes against the wave of visceral memory, seventeen again like it was only yesterday. She swallows hard against the lump in her throat and breathes in - Mer smells the same, exactly the same - and holds on to her, holds on tight.

She abandons Carter and O'Neill, whose eyes are bugging out of their heads, with a _you see her, what can I do?_ shrug, but she's grinning like a loon as she joins the march, she knows she is, and she doesn't really care. Meredith talks at two hundred miles per hour for most of it, yelling over the noise and gesticulating with one hand until Judy finally takes the banner so the woman at the other end of it, who's built like a running back, doesn't break Meredith's nose. Finally Meredith runs out of steam, opens and closes her mouth a few times and says, slightly awkwardly, "So, um, how have you been?"

Judy has to laugh, and that hurts too, like she's using muscles she hasn't used for a while. "What? _What_?" says Meredith, and there in the middle of the crowd of shouting, singing women, hidden from the crowds on the pavements and with the banner flapping above them, Judy wraps an arm around Meredith's waist and kisses her on the mouth. When she pulls back, Meredith wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and blinks, then, shyly, hesitantly, smiles. They hold hands all the way to Leicester Square, and with every step, Judy can feel the weight of a few more days of the last eighteen years lifting, dissolving into the cold autumn air like they're nothing. Towards the end, she finds herself chanting and yelling along with all the others, and feels like she's taking back every night, every day of her life.

 

"It's a _lesbian separatist commune_ ," Meredith hisses loudly into her ear as the five of them drive back in the van, after they've dropped off their last two other passengers. Judy and Meredith are squeezed together on two back seats behind folded up banners. Meredith seems to have stopped noticing that Judy's got her hand in a death grip, and is absently rubbing her thumb over the bare skin of Judy's wrist, which is making it kind of hard for Judy to concentrate on what she's saying. "Rona and Teyla are together, or maybe Teyla and Carly, I've never really worked that out. Anyway, they won't let in anything that maintains and furthers male privilege - even my physics journals, can you believe that? I tell them that science is about furthering the cause of humanity, but oh, no -" she looks around, then drops her voice to a mumble, "they won't even let me watch _Dr. Who_ , I have to go to Zelenka's flat to watch it -"

Carly, who's wearing a bright red First Aid sash and looks relieved that the whole thing is over, purses her lips disapprovingly at her.

"Oh, shut up, like you don't keep all your _Abba_ records at Sue's," Meredith snaps.

 

For all her bitching, though, Meredith grins proudly as she leads Judy into the ordinary-looking, semi-detached brick house in Hammersmith. Teyla - the gorgeous one whom Judy saw rapping off orders mid-march with one eye on the police escort, in a way that makes Judy wonder if she's had military training, somewhere - smiles and says, "Welcome to Atlantis."

It's messy, and kind of poky, but somehow the sense of calm that radiates out of Teyla permeates the house, in the hand-painted stained glass lampshades and the bowls of water everywhere, casting ripples onto the ceiling. Every room on the ground floor is painted sky-blue. It makes Judy feel strange, jolted in her skin, like she's been here before, or was always meant to be here.

"There's food," Meredith says, hopeful and a little pink, "and, and beer, and, you can stay tonight, right? Do you want to stay?"

"Yeah, okay," Judy says, interlacing their fingers together, and she doesn't know what the hell she's doing. "Cool."

*

It's past two before they crawl into Meredith's bed together and fall asleep, but Judy, still on US time, wakes up at six thirty, and nudges and shifts and sighs and is generally obnoxious until Meredith wakes up too.

"God, the first time we ever -" she breaks off on a yawn, and Judy buries her face in Meredith's neck, inhaling deeply in a rather disturbing way before kissing her jaw, her throat, " - actually sleep together, and you -"

Judy says, "How about you take this off now," and starts hauling at Meredith's t-shirt, nearly taking Meredith's nose with it.

" _Ow_ , for god's sake, let me do that, you clumsyoooha don't tickle me! Stoppit, they'll wake up, they'll wake up! Shh, stop laughing, you maniac."

Judy flops down on top of Meredith like a limpet to muffle her loud, stupid guffaw (which is somehow even more ridiculous than when she was a teenager), huffing warm breath against Meredith's armpit and tangling their legs together, and Meredith strokes her back, feeling shattered and clumsy with happiness.

"I'm just saying, if this is a sign of things to come -"

Judy shimmies up Meredith's body so that they're face-to-face, then wiggles her eyebrows. "Things could be coming."

"I am not kissing you until you've brushed your teeth," Meredith says weakly, then jumps when Judy slides a hand up her thigh.

"McKay," Judy says, eyes intent, "Shut up."

 

It's weird at first, familiar and yet not, but the sleepy, early morning silence slows them down, makes them take the time to remember what goes where. Judy's still ridiculously attractive, but age has made her features sharper, her bones burnished and hard. She has scars that Meredith doesn't remember: one low and long over the appendix; one ragged on her calf, pale and hairless where the rest of her leg is stubbly; the deep-set dot of a tuburculosis jab on her shoulder. Heat flares in Meredith's belly when Judy pins her down against the mattress, and Judy grins and flexes her biceps a little.

"Show-off."

"Hey, just because I've kept in shape."

Judy presses a kiss to Meredith's collarbone, then slides her palms down Meredith's sides, presses them into the rolls of stomach above her hips and _squishes_. Meredith squeaks, and Judy leers down at her in an utterly unsavoury way, eyeing Meredith's tits, which she hasn't even touched yet. It makes Meredith feel exposed and embarrassed and turned-on, and she can feel her face going hot.

"Sorry I'm not -" she mutters, "I mean, I don't get a lot of exercise."

"You still blush all the way down?"

"Why don't you put that mouth to good use and find out?" Meredith snaps, still flushing.

Judy flashes her teeth. "'kay."

Maybe they've both learned a lot since they last did this, but Judy still knows how to take Meredith apart, and she does, until Meredith's biting her wrist so she won't wake up the whole house, Judy's tongue like fire against her, inside her. Then Judy is smiling sticky against her thigh, and Meredith pulls her up, licks her mouth sloppily, clambers on top of her.

"I missed you," she whispers, "I can't believe how much I missed you."

"Yeah," Judy whispers, eyes dark. "Mer, I know."

Meredith isn't sure if she ever quite caught up with Judy in terms of proficiency, but she's filled in the gaps in her knowledge of the theory since then. Judy arches up soundlessly as Meredith slides a finger inside her, eyes fluttering closed. She pants, "Mer, don't - fast, please Jesus Christ -"

A good physicist is nothing if not flexible in the face of new variables. Meredith kisses Judy's mouth, and goes fast until Judy's making hitching, desperate little noises into the pillow she's pressed against her face. Meredith gives Judy a moment to get her breath back, then pokes her in the side. Repeat experimentation is very important.

 

They fuck in Meredith's bed, in the shower, in Meredith's bed again, then they go and help Rona make breakfast. They get distracted, though, when Rona goes out to clear the sitting room, and Judy crowds Meredith against the counter and kisses her until she burns the bacon. Teyla emerges halfway through, sleepy-eyed and as cranky as she ever gets, pre-tea and pre-meditation, and makes them scrub the bacon pan. Then they go back to bed.

 

"So, is this, um," Meredith mumbles into Judy's side later, because she doesn't have the energy to crawl up the bed, "I mean, do you -"

 

She pokes Judy in the hip, trying to make her point, and Judy glares down at her, sleepy-eyed.

"What?"

"Is this a one time thing?" Meredith says in a rush, staring down at the sheets. "Because, I mean, this is a bit strange, I haven't seen you for twenty years or something ridiculous, and you just turn up and we have sex, and that's great - more than great, actually, I mean, it's, well, the best thing that's happened to me for longer than I really want to think about - but, well, anyway, I work weird hours, and you don't even live in this country, and god knows when we'd see each other, but, I'd really like it if we could - if I could see you again. Preferably repeatedly."

"Yeah," Judy says, grabbing Meredith's shoulder tight and pulling her, tugging her up into her arms. "Yeah, okay. Good, that's - Mer, just - come up here."

Meredith goes, and kisses her again, and they don't get out of bed for a while.

*

O'Neill and Carter set a date, finally, in July. O'Neill yells this over her shoulder as they fly over the Rockies for the fourth time that month. "I'll be at the service of her majesty," he yells, and Judy's not sure if he means Carter or the queen, but she thinks it might be rude to ask. "I'm not gonna need a pilot anymore, but I've got a friend I'd like you to meet."

The friend is a Scottish guy with sandy-blond hair and pursed lips, who introduces himself as Cowley, no title. His skin's papery and slightly grey, but his handshake's firm and his eyes don't wander below the neckline. "Miss Sheppard," he says, "You come highly recommended."

She flies him from a helipad on the roof of his offices to a field in Yorkshire, sits there for a couple of hours, then flies him back again. He asks her a few more questions, mostly about the kind of conditions she's flown in and whether she can handle a gun.

"Good, good," he says, rubbing his hands together when she says she can. "We'll require a refresher course, plus some hand-to-hand, but nothing you can't handle. Well, Miss Sheppard, you seem ideal; you'll be hearing from us, subject to background checks, of course. You won't be required to take the CI:5 basic training, but after six months we'll have a review and see where we are, hey? Ah, good, here's Miss Baker, she'll show you around. Doyle! Where are we with that suspect?"

A woman in a boiler suit smiles at Judy. Cowley storms down the corridor towards a delicately-built guy with a gun in a shoulder holster and more hair than Meredith used to have.

"Take a good look," the woman mutters, tapping Judy on the shoulder, "They're the biggest trouble you'll have around here. Real skirt-chasers, those two, but it's all bark and no bite. That's Ray Doyle with the curly locks, and Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome-And-Don't-I-Know-It' is William Bodie. Ginger beers, if you ask me, but don't let the Cow hear you say that."

Cowley snaps something at the pair of them and marches down the corridor, and William Bodie elbows Ray Doyle in the side and mutters something in his ear. Doyle leans in to hear it, then roars with laughter and shoulders Bodie into the wall; Bodie whoops as he tries to get him in a headlock, nearly crashing into a man carrying a pile of paper, who dodges them, shaking his head.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Sheppard," Judy says. "Judy Sheppard."

"Oh, my sister's called Judy too. Get you a cup of tea?"

*

When Judy gets back, Rona answers the door. "Mer!" she yells up the stairs, then waits, but there's no reply. "She's working on the boiler," she says, shrugging. "Might as well go up."

All Judy can see of Meredith is her really pretty fantastic ass and the soles of her feet. She can hear her curses pretty well through the wall of the closet, though. Judy clears her throat, and Mer's hand appears immediately, fingers snapping.

"It's about bloody time you came up to help. How I'm supposed to get this fixed without even the courtesy of a cup of tea - come on, spanner!"

There's a toolbox on the floor. Judy looks at it.

"Is a spanner the same as a wrench?"

Meredith squeaks, bumps her head on something inside and swears. Then she wriggles out of the closet, ass-first, as Judy watches appreciatively.

"I, um, sorry, I thought you were Rona."

Meredith's wearing white, paint-spattered dungarees over a Magic Roundabout t-shirt, strands of hair escaping from several pink hairclips to stick to her sweaty forehead. There's a big black smear just above her eyebrow, and her hands are filthy. It makes Judy feel kind of shaky with lust. Meredith lifts her chin and glares, crossing her arms.

"What? I'm the only person with any remote sense of how to put things together around here, someone has to stop the place falling apart."

Judy swallows. "You want tea?"

"Oh. That would be - yes. Thanks. I'll just, um," and she grabs the rag behind the toolbox to wipe her hands.

"Nah, don't worry, I'll bring it up," Judy says, then clears her throat again, because she can't quite get the words out. "There's no hurry."

"Oh!" Meredith says. Then her eyes go wide and she says, "Oh," again, and the smile that spreads across her face makes something sweet explode in Judy's chest; she can't quite handle it, so she goes to get the tea.

When she comes back, Meredith meets her at the top of the stairs, forehead creased and rubbing the rag between her finger and thumb over and over.

"Look, I'm not very good at -" she begins, then blurts out, "You got the job, right? That's what you meant? You're going to stay?"

"Yeah," Judy says, and puts the tea down on the floor, because she's pretty sure she's going to kiss Meredith in a couple of seconds, and she wants to be ready. "I'm sticking around."

*

Judy moves in. They argue, briefly, about her working for a government agency that furthers the interests of the patriarchy; Judy points out that helicopters are cool. Rona, of all people, backs her up. But they still have to go over to Radek's to watch _Dr. Who_.

Meredith learns to meditate. She publishes journal articles under the name Dr. Meredith McKay. She paints their bedroom blue. Judy learns to fire several different kinds of gun, and break a man's neck with her bare hands. She starts helping Rona out with her self-defense classes, when she's not flying. She also learns to make really good chilli.

Against all the odds, they live happily ever after.

End  



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